Kind Cruelty
---- Barricade is sitting on a repair berth in the Forge, with Hook and Scrapper putting the finishing welds on gouges on his neck. He apparently isn't waiting for the repairs to be finished before he tends to Decepticon business, and the anger in his features may give a clue as to how urgent the reason is, or rather, why. "Listen up," he growls. "It gives me no great pleasure to say this, but one of our own has turned traitor on us." A little side window on the message pops up with an image of Shiftlock in it, tech specs displayed underneath her picture. "As of this time Shiftlock is -no longer a Decepticon-. She's workin' with Whirl." He scowls even harder if that's possible. "Yeah -that- Whirl. The one in the writings. She is blacklisted from the Forge: You see her in here? You do whatever you want to her, but you make sure she's gunmetal gray when you're done." The video message ends with that. ---- Once again it's Torque's turn to man the helm that is the Forge's medbay, forgoing any fighting today in favor of watching the overhead screen between patients. And with a momentary lapse in injured fighters this is exactly what she does with her apathetic assistant sitting beside her. "That mech's got one mean uppercut." Torque marvels while watching a replay of the previous fight, though a bored 'mhm' at her side draws her attention and she looks over to see Suture tapping away on his datapad. At least until he recieves a light smack upside the head that makes him flinch and glare at her. "What the frag was that for??" Torque just huffs and settles her hands on her hips. "You should be watching these fights! It'll help you know where to treat a patient before they even come in. If you wanna get into the Academy then you better start paying more attention." To which the truck mech grumbles weakly and nods, not ready to get another smack anytime soon. One of the recent fighters -- victorious, but not without a bit of a battle -- drags himself into the repair bay. There's a moment of unintentional towering where Grimlock looks even larger within the confines of the doorway, his particular glower not doing anything to help, before he steps inside with a sweeping gaze. "Who's fixing me," he grumbles. "Busy~" one of the constructicons says as he finishes the last weld on Barricade's neck. The two minicons that work with the former Iaconian Police Officer are on examination tables nearby. They're undamaged, but Barricade is insisting they be checked over as well. He takes care of what is his. Having finished his message, 'Cade puts aside the communicube on a table near the slab. He vents heavily, shuttering his optics, grimmacing unhappily. "I need a fraggin' quart of engex." Suture is the first to look up and spot Grimlock, staring for a second before promptly pointing to Torque. The femme perks and glances over to the giant mech before quickly moving to her feet and smiling wide at the gladiator. "Right this way. Grimlock, right? Suture, you go work on those two over there instead of sitting around." She shoos off the medic to go assist Barricade's minicons and ushers Grimlock over to one of the bigger medical benches. "No drinking in the medbay I'm afraid, officer." She asides to Barricade in passing and pulls up her tools while hooking Grimlock up to one of the many machines to keep track of his vitals. "So who'd you fight this time, Grim? Lookin' a little more scuffed than usual." Grimlock looks over at Barricade to give the bot a once over, frowning at whatever he finds there. Who knows. It's Grimlock. The more surprising thing is the quiet breath of almost amused sound that suggests a smirk behind his faceplate at Barricade's words. Turning his attention back to Torque, he's back to glowering. "Medbays are exactly where drinking needs to happen," he grumbles, settling in reluctantly to be poked and prodded and repaired. "Someone who's not going to be in the ring again." "Who was it this match?" 'Cade asks, trying to turn his head to look at Grimlock and Torque. His green and purple medic grabs him by the chin roughly and pulls his head back to where it was facing. "If you continue to move your head while I am working, I am going to weld it on -backwards-. You are /re-opening/ the welds, so -sit still-," Hook threatens. For once, Barricade listens. You don't sass the guy who can make you hurt the most. "Maybe when someone else is on duty, but you mechs know my rules." Torque says sternly, lowering the bench enough so she can actually look over Grimlock's bulk and start spot welding any leaks. For the most part the fighters do as she says, but that doesn't mean she doesn't run into troublemakers now and then. "Ah, right.." She mutters softly to Grim's answer, remember the not so pleasant truth that he's high tier. That's when the fights become fatal... But she tries not to think about that, instead eyeing Barricade across the way for second. "That's some nasty damage. Don't think I've really seen you much in the ring, though?" Grimlock looks pretty unintimidated by Torque's sternness, but that's kind of his default. "Do you remember names or something?" he says in response to Barricade, a bit baffled by the question, as if the idea of paying attention to that part never occurred to him. He endures Torque's examination and welding with indifference. "I keep track of names because I'm in charge of the matches," Barricade states firmly. "Clench may own this rig but he's hands off. Mech wouldn't know his aft from a twenty-time champion. He leaves that t' me." "I asked 'cause I was out for awhile. Business. Not pleasant, but hadda be done." His optics trace over to Torque even if he isn't allowed to turn his head. "Yeah, I fight, too. Deathmatches." Torque doesn't know as much about the mechs that actually run the Forge, so when Barricade announces himself as such it's enough to make her pause from her work and look at him. The mention of deathmatches doesn't particularly help her feelings about him either, so when she catches his gaze she flicks her antennas back slightly and quickly looks back down to keep working. "Er, right, sorry I didn't recognize you. I.. don't watch the high tier fights very much." Maybe once in a while, but she's careful to turn the feed off before any final blows. Back to her patient, she finishes stemming and reconnecting any leaking lines and moves on to patching up the surface damage, closing up open wounds and trying to remold any dented armor. Some prefer the beat up look, but well, she likes to make them look halfway decent and not a walking mess. "You a squeamish medic?" Grimlock concludes, peering at Torque with a certain level of skepticism at her ability now. "If a medic had no compassion I'd be worried about lettin' 'em work on me," Barricade quips at Grimlock. Hook huffs unamusedly at the statement. "There is a difference between compassion and weakness," he retorts snobbishly. "There. Your welds are set and your deployers are in optimal condition. I -trust- you will be satisfied with the work." If Grimlock wasn't... Grimlock then Torque would be glaring at him right now for that assumption. So she puffs up a bit with a determined expression and shakes her head. "'Course I'm not squeamish! I'm in the middle tier, so I've got no problems with beatin' up a mech. It's just.." This is where she falters, deflating some and looking a tad unsure. "..I'm a medic first, so I can't rightly go killing anyone like you guys can. It just.. doesn't feel right to me. I'll just stay where I am in the system, I don't think I'd ever cut it in the deathmatches." It's not easy admitting to non-killing around two top tier gladiators, so she tries not to look any of them in the optic and instead focuses more on her work, which is nearly complete. "Anyway.. Almost finished, Grim, so just hold tight a moment." "Never said anything about compassion," Grimlock gruffs back at Barricade, turning his head to eye Torque a little closer. He, perhaps surprisingly considering her clear expectations, doesn't seem particularly judgmental of her reluctance to join the higher tiers. "Bots do what they have to," he eventually says. "Everyone knows what they're getting into." "If you ain't got the struts to watch the oilsport, you might not wanna hang around here much longer," Barricade states to Torque as he gets off the slab, and goes over to the cobalt blue panthress and condor on the other tables that are waiting for him. "The way things are goin'? It's gonna get messy. Clench has already started tryin' to chain us down, make us even more his property than we were when we signed on." Garboil lofts himself onto 'Cade's right shoulder, as the larger mech gently strokes Howlback's neck - to her apparent appreciation. She stretches as cats are wont to do, and extends her claws, yawning. "The mechs around here are gettin' tired of bein' pushed around. It's just a matter of time before we start pushin' back -- on everyone that thinks they can stick their boot against our necks." Torque raises her optics to meet Grimlock's, a light frown tinging usually jovial expression. "I know.. But when you do that sort of stuff.. I just worry that mechs might lose themselves, I guess." She's the worrying type, it's true, but has reason to. Hearing about mechs and their first kills.. They change, and she doesn't like that. Dredging herself up from her sunken mood, Torque makes a few final touch-ups before stepping back and offering a weak smirk to Grim. "Alright, you're good to go, Grimlock. Heh, I swear you're one of my better patients." Unfortunately her smirks fades when Barricade speaks up, the femme turning her head to look unsuredly at him. "So I've heard.." And directly from Megatron, which wasn't all that great. "I think I might end up pulling out of the arena soon and just stick to the medbay." Because she doesn't wanna get caught up in anything. "It's a damn shitshow," Grimlock declares flatly. "The whole thing. Desperate bots doing desperate things. Folks want to take advantage. Doesn't matter which one's in charge." "No kidding," Barricade snorts to Grimlock. Howlback purrs and swishes her tail with a little flick. "Leetle medic, I am thinkink you should be findink other work than in dis place, yes?" Ironic that the minicon cat is calling Torque 'little'. It's a perception thing. "Clench is gettink hungry for more shanix. Everyone is goink on list now - there is more 'little tiers'. Only slaughter." Garboil bobs his head in assent. "Yes, I whole-sparkedly agree. If you have other work, best be getting back to it. Word on the street is that the Enforcers are getting antsy." Even the minicons are making good points. And what Howlback especially says sends a bit of a tingle up Torque's spine. "That's.. probably a good idea." She looks to Suture across the medbay and frowns. She'll have to take him with her since she's not eager to leave him behind. Back to the others, she speaks up, "Well maybe it'll end soon, then. I dunno where everyone will go with the Forge gone.. but there's gotta be better stuff out there." She's enjoyed her fights here, as well as helping fix people, but she'd be lying if she said she'd miss this place once it's gone. It's then that a small crackle over her commlink catches her attention and she places a hand to the base of her antenna, pausing to listen and glance up to the live feed of the arena. Looks like a loser needs hauling back. "Welp, that's my cue.. You mechs be careful out there.. alright?" Despite the looming threat of what's to come, Torque still manages a slight smile to the group before she grabs up her medical kit and heads out the door to attend to yet another patient. "/End/," Grimlock echoes back at her, shaking his head as he watches Torque go. "Naive bot. Only way this thing is ending is burning Cybertron to the ground." "I hope it doesn't come to that," Barricade says earnestly; it seems on the surface to be in conflict with what he was saying not moments before. "I'm not in this operation to turn our home into a wasteland. I'm here for -justice-. I'm here to hold Sentinel and the Senate and Prowl and all those other sold-out, strutless jackbooted thugs accountable for their crimes." "Not like the Decepticons are going to make anything better," Grimlock mutters, standing back up and rotating an arm slowly in his shoulder joint to test out his fixes. "I suppose you have a better idea?" Garboil questions, somewhat nonplussed despite his dulcit and calm tone. Barricade is curious as well, but his deployer's spoken for him. Sometimes it's nice to have Garboil around; he has an elegance to his speech that 'Cade himself lacks. Howlback nudges the cop's hand. "Open up, I am needink beauty rest after zhat mess in the Dead End." "Get off this rock," Grimlock states flatly. "That's my idea." "You and that shuttle," Barricade laughs. "Yeah, good luck with -that-. They've been crackin' down on offplanet flights. Slag, you shoulda seen the response to that colony world shuttle that touched down in Ibex. You'd think the fraggin' Galactic Council was sendin' a war party." "Never said it was happening anytime soon," Grimlock replies, and there's a streak of frustrated bitterness a mile wide in the dryness of his voice. "But I don't have to have a better idea to know that the Cons are just as much bad news." He glances over at Barricade, his gaze fixing on him for a brief moment, then heads for the door. "Keep runnin'," Barricade mutters under his breath as Grimlock goes for the door. He looks down at Howlback, one half of his torso plate opening like a car hood as the cat turns into a data stick and slots herself inside. "Anyone who ain't willin' to stay and fight for this world doesn't have any place on it." That has the large bot pausing in the doorway. Grimlock doesn't quite turn back around, though his head tips just a few inches. "You don't know much of anything bout anyone," he says, and then he's gone.